I’ve said that reversion takes two
forms. The first is the meaning I think that the organizers of the conference
on ex-Mennonites have in mind: One might leave the church of one’s parents, but
remain a Christian in one’s general worldview. The second is the way that I
think of it missiologically: One might leave the religion of one’s parents,
meaning that one becomes non-Christian.
Who then is
likely to revert (in either sense)? When people think of the church in
Zimbabwe, they might think that we are looking for someone who leaves a
traditional religion (such as the worship of Mwari vaMatonjeni at the shrines
in the Matopo Hills) for Christian faith. Then after trying Christianity he/she
might return to the traditional religion.
I suspect that
this is the less typical case. More typically (I suspect) the one who reverts
is the child or grandchild of Christians, and then rediscovers some form of the
traditional religion renewed for today. Similarly in Canada, I suspect that
those from a Christian background who “revert” and embrace some form of First
Nations spirituality are not themselves first generation converts.[1]
What happens is
similar to what happened when their grandparents first converted. The religious
worldview answers their grandparents learned from their parents were inadequate
for new challenges. Similarly, the answers that they now have are inadequate.
Why they are inadequate belongs in the next blog.
When we think of
those who leave the church they grew up in, but remain Christian, I suspect a
similar dynamic is at work. The Brethren in Christ (BIC) of my youth had a
strong group identity which tended to keep members in the church, even when
they moved to a part of the country where the BIC were not. One of the ways
that we exerted pressure to keep people in the group was through the use of
boundary behaviour. We were separate from the world, and we used clear markers
to maintain our separation.
So my mother
wore a covering until I was 15 years old, and my father wore a plain vest with
no tie. Over time, as one generation learned from their parents how to live,
the patterns we learned (represented by but not limited to these boundary behaviours),
came to be seen as irrelevant.
So those who
leave the church of their youth, while remaining generally Christian, are
generally not those who paid the price to become part of the church. My maternal
grandmother, for example, came from a Lutheran background. Becoming BIC meant
that she had to embrace the plain dress and give up the fine clothes and jewelry
enjoyed in her life before belonging to the BIC. It is unlikely that, having
made that choice, she would go back on it. But the same issues are experienced
quite differently in the lives of her children and grandchildren (and so on).
To some extent,
the choice that someone from the new generation makes to leave is a kind of
conversion, embracing a new worldview, with new religious commitments.
[1]
Missiological research suggests that, if the theological process is not fully
contextualized, the fourth generation after first contact with Christian
mission will become nominal in its faith, and is ripe for either secularization
or embracing a revitalisation of the traditional religion. I do not have a
reference here, but simply my memory from missiological studies.
3 comments:
From your Father:
CORRECTION: I never wore a "Plain Coat". A "Plain Vest" Yes. But not a Plain Coat. And as a Missionary in the Rhodesias a Plain Vest morphed into the English Clerical Collar with a black dickey.
I was thinking of "plain coat" as a generic way of speaking of plain dress. Meaning especially no tie. It shows I suppose that I didn't have to live by the same dress code myself!
I have now changed "plain coat" to "plain vest". The miracle of editing!
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